


There But For You I Go

by asimplewalk



Category: Captain America (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Musicals
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-04
Updated: 2015-12-04
Packaged: 2018-05-04 23:25:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,257
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5352275
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/asimplewalk/pseuds/asimplewalk
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A theater nerd sings in the shower, finds love.</p>
            </blockquote>





	There But For You I Go

**Author's Note:**

  * For [GlynnisIsta8](https://archiveofourown.org/users/GlynnisIsta8/gifts).



> Aunt Glynn got a case of the sads and I finally got the motivation to take one of my favorite prompts and do the thing.
> 
> Entirely unbeta'd, and all recognizable content belongs to the rightful owners; I make no profit from this.

Sam Wilson has for the duration of his life thus far, is currently, and forever shall be a musical theatre nerd.  
See, it started when he was a crew hand for Midsummer Night in middle school because his mom insisted he do something enriching instead of hanging with the bad seeds in the neighborhood. Then it was Secret Garden crew, then Fiddler, then auditioning for Hello Dolly. So the amount of times he has sung in the shower have pretty much been all of them, even when he had about five seconds under a freezing sluice while he was in the Air Force.

Usually, though, he doesn't have someone singing the other half of “As Long As You're Mine” from Wicked.  
Whoever she is, she has the voice of a fucking angel, and he regrets having to get out when he’s done scrubbing the grime off his body from sparring with Clint.

\--

The next time he’s in the Facility gym’s showers, he hears that beautiful voice singing “Sixteen Going On Seventeen” and Steve actually throws a bar of soap at him for joining in. Sam doesn't have a fuck to give though, because even after that mission, he absolutely has the energy for Sound of Music.

\--

Three in the morning and nightmares of seeing Riley plummeting out of the helicarrier into the Potomac and Steve getting blown to smithereens by and IED and Bucky just in an exo-7 mangled by a damn rocket-  
And there's that voice again. He’s sitting on the shitter, snot-nosed and hoarse from waking screaming, and a voice on the other side of his bathroom wall is a song from fuckin’ Brigadoon. He’s not really in the mood, because it’s maybe his favorite song, and mixing his nightmares with one of his favorite plays feels like tempting fate. He doesn't really think about his bare feet silently moving over the floor, out the door, and to the neighboring one to solidly pound on it three times.

“Come, dearie, near me so ye can hear me, I've got to whisper this sof-” She’s even prettier than her voice and he feels ten times more of an ass than he had even as he’s basically been punching her door. “I am so sorry, did I wake you up?” She’s yanking headphones out of her ears and staring up at him in horror.

“Nah, too many ugly dreams did that for you. I just- usually I love hearing you sing, right? I just am somewhere in-between going Star Spangled Brotatoes on a HYDRA agent or throwing myself into the endless abyss and it’s killing me right now.”

“Would you like a hug and some food?” Whoever she is, she’s a damn goddess, and steps back to open her door up from where she’d been just poking her head out. 

“Nah, but thank you. I think I'm just gonna go and be the Grinch and hide in my apartment. I’m sorry for bothering you.” Yeah, he’s definitely being an asshole to this poor, sweet woman. He’s pretty sure he’s seen her over in the civilian part of the facility working with some of the scientists. “I hope you get some decent rest, miss.”

“You too, big guy.” She says it a little dubiously, and actually watches him go back into his apartment. 

In the morning, he finds a basket of gluten and nut free muffins and brownies, with a small red-and-white crocheted bear in front of his door.

\--

Something close to three months go by, and as he’s getting ready to hop in the shower, he hears the one next door running, so when he gets in, he starts singing, “Because they told me I can't behold ye till weddin' music starts playin'” and can’t really stop, because that siren voice is immediately singing along on the other side of the wall and it's a sudden weight off his shoulders that he hadn't realized was there.

\--

The next week, he finds himself in the shower around the same time, and each time, whoever hops in second starts singing and they are off on another duet.

\--

The x-men call them in on a curious issue in northern France and he’s laying flat on the table after the debrief when Thor’s girlfriend and her assistant come in to gather the demigod, and he hears a big laugh before someone is whistling something that sounds mightily like “Would You Light My Candle” from RENT, and before he can fully scramble up and around to figure out if his neighbor was suddenly in the room, the whistler is gone.

“You alright, Wings?” Tony is starting to run out of creative nicknames, so Sam is a little worried for how simple this one is. Too simple.

“Yeah. This girl is haunting me, though. The other half of my musical heart is taunting me, just… out there being gorgeous and perfect.” He shrugs and gets off the table then, since Hill is gone and they don't actually have to be in the conference room anymore.

“Just ask her out, you ass!” Steve actually smacks his shoulder, and Sam turns and delivers a bitchface to his friend strong enough to elicit a small apology. 

“Breasts is right, if you know who she is…” Bucky beats Tony to the punch on the joke and that's that- Sam needs out immediately.

“Wait, Wings, Breasts, does that make you Thighs, Bucky?” Clint is also insufferable. They all are. 

\--

Sam wakes up to the sound of someone banging on a door nearby and he’s on his feet and holding a butter knife that's caked in dried cream cheese before his eyes are open. His eyes settle on a cross-stitch that says Fuck Zen in a tiny fre next to the change dish by his door and he suddenly remembers when and where he is, so he goes to answer the door that whoever is still hanging on.

“Jane fucked off to Asgard on Thor’s arm and I have Wicked tickets for soon o’clock go put on clothes.” The tiny, gorgeous embodiment of some Greek Theoi that he can't pin down has pushed into his apartment without so much as a hello, so when she actually stops to look at him, she cracks up. “And put the knife down, you goomba, that's not even the best weapon I the room. Did you fall asleep eating a cheese ball or something?”

“I might have. What’s it to you?” Sam goes and gets the empty plate and cracker box to put them in the kitchen to deal with later before heading to get on decent looking clothes and brush his teeth.

“I’m so glad I picked you to go with me. Handsome, likes musicals. Also a sleepy sheepy with serious foodlove.” Her voice is sunshine and rainbows and happy laughter. “Oh, I'm Darcy, by the way.”

“Sam.” He shouts back as he tries to hop into a pair of slacks. “Is this a date? Or am I just filling in on a date?”

“Oh, it can be a date. I just don't like going to see stuff like this alone, because its always weird to ugly cry in public because of how great something is.”

“Date it is. Dinner after, then?” He’s trying to hurry so they can definitely get into the city and to the theatre on time, even on short notice. 

“Only if it’s shitty diner food.” He can hear her smile, and that’s it. That does it, he’s gone from smitten to adoring, and suddenly, he’s got butterflies.

**Author's Note:**

> So, I don't even know if you _like_ musical theater, but here you go. No sads today, only fluff and fun.
> 
> And to anyone else experiencing a case of the sads. Have a happy, I love you.
> 
> As always, you can come prompt or howl at me on [tumblr](http://www.crownsandashes.tumblr.com) or on [twitter](http://www.twitter.com/extransient)!


End file.
